


if home is really where the heart is (then we're the smartest kids i know)

by stefonzolesky



Series: my rollercoaster [1]
Category: Arrested Development
Genre: Gen, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, tracey's a sweetheart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-16 06:32:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11823168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stefonzolesky/pseuds/stefonzolesky
Summary: Tracey laughs, clear, and shakes her head. “He’s in there running his pencil down ‘cause he’s writing so hard, and you’ve been out here crying for who knows how long. What did he do?”





	if home is really where the heart is (then we're the smartest kids i know)

Gob finds himself pacing back and forth in Michael's house.

"I’m not… a burden."

It’s not very convincing.  
  
"What?" Michael's voice comes from the steps, and Gob's head snaps up so fast that he's sure he almost broke his neck.  
  
"Michael!" A tight grin finds itself on Gob's lips, strained as ever. "How long have you been standing there?"  
  
"Since you thought it was necessary to tell yourself that you're twenty-five." Michael takes a few steps forward. "You good?"  
  
"Okay. You caught me talking to myself. But--" Gob falters when Michael holds up his hand.  
  
"Why are you at my house?" He sets down his stuff, and his keys clank on the counter. "Not that I don't enjoy visits from my older sister, but I could use a bit of warning."  
  
Gob nearly flinches. "I wanted to talk to you. That's just it."  
  
"What?" Michael moves so he's sitting on the stool, his elbow resting on the table. "What's just it?"  
  
"Older sister." Gob's mouth is dry.  
  
"Huh." Michael stares at him. "I like your haircut. Wanna sit down?"  
  
Gob stares blankly for a second before rushing to take a seat. "Thanks. Sorry for turning up uninvited."  
  
"No worries," Michael promises, though Gob isn't sure he believes him. "Where are you staying right now?"  
  
"With some girl," Gob says quickly, eager to speak on the subject change. Something in the back of his head prods him to stay on track, but he ignores it. "Her and I have been, y'know..." He wiggles his eyebrows, and Michael blinks once. Twice.  
  
"Some girl?" He studies Gob's face. "You're into girls."  
  
"Well, yeah." That part isn't as hard for him to admit. "Figured that out _way_ earlier."  
  
Michael nods, dead silent, and then furrows his eyebrows. "Way earlier than what?"  
  
Gob panics for half a second and tries to change the subject. "Nothing. Is George Michael with Tracey?"  
  
"Yeah." Michael looks unamused. He’s far from oblivious to how eager his brother is to change the subject. "Way earlier than what?"  
  
"It's--" Gob laughs, an awkward, nervous laugh. Strangled and forced. "That's not important, _Michael."_  
  
"Uh, yeah. It's not that important. Except it _is."_ Michael stares at Gob blankly. "Tracey's coming back in an hour, so if you don't want her to know, I'd advise you to tell me now."

“Right.” Gob’s fingers drum on the counter, _tap tap tapping_ until it hurts his head and his nails feel like they’re digging back in his fingers. He’s done this before, he can do it again.

Michael’s eyes are unreadable, his face completely blank. Somehow it’s scarier than if he was visibly angry. “Well?”

“Well,” Gob starts, and then he doesn’t know where to go. He’s blanking, and this is so much more stressful than when he told Dad -- and Dad didn’t even let him choose his own name! “I just… _Michael.”_

“Yeah.” Michael sighs heavily. “I think I’ll go do some work.” He stands up, and Gob stands up just as fast.

“Wait! Wait, wait, wait.” He puts his hand on Michael’s chest to stop him. Michael just looks tired, too tired. There’s an added ten years in his eyes. “Michael... I just-- This is hard for me to talk about.”

“And I have work to do.” Michael rolls his eyes, trying to walk away.

Gob manages a tight laugh. “Dad’s really done a number on you, huh?”

Michael freezes in his tracks. Even though he’s facing away, Gob can see him tense up. Can see him grit his teeth. “Dad didn’t make me any way.”

“Like you really believe that.” Gob sits down, relaxing a little. “The man wouldn’t even let me pick my own name. Not that I’m too upset about it, that’s a lot of responsibility. But still. He’s a control freak, and he made you like that too. Except you’re worse than him, Mikey. You’re like dad, and worse.”

And then the confidence fades, and Gob can _feel_ Michael’s rage. He turns to Gob, spitfire, and practically yells. “I am _nothing_ like Dad.” He points a shaking finger. “I’m nothing like him, and I never will be.”

Gob smiles despite himself. “Maybe not. Only time will tell. But I did it.”

Michael looks like he’s running equations, his mind racing. “You…” He lowers his hand, but he’s just as angry. “You did what?”

“I told you.” Gob smiles a little wider. “Well, kind of. But I was smart about it. I made you angry about something else instead of what I was scared to say.”

And he can see the gears working behind Michael’s eyes. Turning and twisting as his expression softens. “Dad… wouldn’t let you pick your own name. Dad didn’t let any of us pick our own names, we got named as kids. People don’t pick their own names--”

Gob raises an eyebrow, and Michael stops.

“I don’t like my name,” is all Gob says. Michael is smart. He’ll figure it out.

Michael’s eyebrows furrow. He steadies himself against the counter and then pulls himself into a seat. “Why not?”

Gob laughs, and the desperate quality has seeped back. “It’s too girly, Mikey. I don’t want a girl’s name.”

Michael softens, and then he’s sharp and squared again, all business. “So you’re-- You’re…”

“Your big brother?” And Gob is so desperate, he’s _so_ desperate. He winces prematurely.

Admittedly, he cares a bit too much about what Michael thinks of him. Telling Michael is harder than… well, telling _anyone else,_ really.

Michael breathes out a sigh. “My big brother.” His voice is heavy and his eyes are darting from Gob to the ground and back up to Gob.

Gob starts to cry right then and there. Something rushes through his body, and he’s warm and cold at the same time. He trips over his tongue and apologizes -- at least he thinks he’s apologizing, it’s a bit hard to register.

Michael’s eyes keep flickering. Eventually, he speaks up quietly.

“I think I’m gonna go get some work done.”

He turns on his heel and leaves the room.

Gob’s head hits the counter. He’s not sure how long it stays down, but he knows it doesn’t come back up when Tracey opens the front door.

He can feel her eyes on him. She stops on the steps and shouts: “Michael? Your sister is crying at the counter again!”

Gob finally looks up, his face stained, and studies Tracey. She looks tired. “Actually--” He manages a weak smile. “I’m his brother. But thanks for the concern, Tracey.”

Tracey’s eyes dart to where Michael left, and she rushes to put George Michael down. Gob’s immediate thought is that she’s repulsed, but then she comes back and sits down next to him.

“What did he do?” Tracey immediately asks.

Gob stares blankly at the counter in front of him. “He didn’t do anything.”

Tracey laughs, clear, and shakes her head. “He’s in there running his pencil down ‘cause he’s writing so hard, and you’ve been out here crying for who knows _how_ long. What did he do?”

Gob sighs and rubs his eyes, and it _stings_. “I don’t know,” He admits. “I just… I told him, and he… walked away. To do some work.”

Tracey sighs a little, drawing her finger along the counter. “I’m sorry about him. He just doesn’t know how to handle things sometimes.”

“Believe me.” Gob laughs, but he feels like his throat is closing up. “I know. He just… I told my dad, like, last week. And I was so scared to tell Michael. That’s why.” He gestures weakly towards where he’s sure Michael’s broken his pencil. “He probably hates me now.”

Tracey’s eyes soften. “I’m sure he doesn’t hate you, he probably just needs time to think.” She hesitates. “...what’s your name?”

Gob laughs again. It’s weak. “Dad made me take his name. But it’s not really mine. So I just kinda… I guess, I’m going by Gob. My-- My initials, ‘cause--”

“You don’t need to explain.” Tracey’s mouth twitches into a smile. “Gob, alright. Fair enough. A dick move on his part. To name you after him, the bastard.”

“Yeah.” Gob smiles back at her. A real smile, despite how small it might be. “But at least he doesn’t hate me any more than he already did.”

There’s a pause. Tracey’s hand lands on Gob’s shoulder as she stands up. “I’m gonna go have a word with Michael.” She smiles a little wider. “I’ll talk to you later, Gob. You should go home. Get some rest.”

So Gob walks out the door with his head up for once. Maybe… maybe he’ll be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> this wasn't exactly... as long as i'd hoped it would be, but if i had kept going, it'd probably be too long. feedback is appreciated!!
> 
> (also should be noted i'm the first person to write a trans gob fic and stuff so :O thank u that's all)


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